‘Hey,’ I say. I give him my hand. The guy who lost his cufflinks and knocked him down is already out the door. Sometimes, very occasionally, my size works in my favour.
I help the bug man off the floor. The back of his shirt is slick and brown. ‘Ugh,’ he says, resigned. ‘Maybe we should go. I think he’ll be back, maybe with friends. He seems to have those, inexplicably.’
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Let’s go.’
The road is a tunnel of amber light. I can’t remember which way my house is and it doesn’t seem very important. ‘What shall we do?’ I ask.
‘I want to drink some more,’ the bug man says. We walk towards a lighted sign in the distance. It seems to advance and recede as we approach but in the end we get there – it is a gas station, which sells beer, so we buy some from the sleepy man who minds the store. Then we sit at the table on the roadside, by the pumps. It’s quiet. Only the occasional car goes by.
I give the bug man a paper napkin. ‘There’s something on your face,’ I say. He cleans himself up without comment.
‘We’re having a beer together,’ I say. ‘It is so weird!’
‘I guess that’s right,’ he says. ‘This kind of thing is not supposed to happen between therapist and client, obviously. Are you going to keep coming to see me, Ted?’
‘Yes,’ I say. Of course I’m not.
‘Good. I was going to bring this up at our next session, but you should give me your real address, you know. For our files. I checked and the one you gave me isn’t even a house. It’s a 7-Eleven.’
‘Made a mistake,’ I say. ‘I get numbers wrong sometimes.’
He just waves a hand as if it’s not important.
‘Where do you live?’ I ask.
‘That’s not how it works,’ he says curtly.
‘Why did that guy think you had his cufflinks?’
‘I’m not sure. Can you imagine me stealing them?’
‘No,’ I say, because I really can’t. ‘Why did you pick your job? Isn’t it boring, listening to people for hours and hours?’
‘Sometimes,’ he says. ‘But I’m hoping it’s about to get much more interesting.’
We drink together for a time, I don’t know how long. We say things but they’re all lost in the ether after that. Occasionally the lights of cars sweep white across our faces. I feel very fond of him.
He leans in close. ‘Lots of people saw us leave together, tonight. The guy in the gas station is looking at us right now. He’d remember you. You’re pretty memorable.’
‘Sure,’ I say.
‘So let’s talk honestly,’ he says. ‘For once. Why did you stop coming to see me?’
‘You cured me,’ I say, giggling.
‘That was quite some stunt, impaling yourself with that pen.’
‘I have a high pain threshold, I guess.’
He hiccups, gently. ‘You were pretty shaken up. You left in a hurry. So you didn’t notice that I followed. You like to keep your home private, don’t you? But it’s harder to muffle sound. Children’s voices are so penetrating.’
The darkness is shot through with a hectic red. The bug man suddenly doesn’t seem as drunk as before. A terrible feeling begins in me.
‘She’s not really your daughter, is she?’ he asks. ‘Just as your cat isn’t really a cat. You thought you were so subtle, leading me onto dissociative identity disorder. But I read people for a living, Ted. You can’t fool me. DID is caused by trauma. Abuse. Tell me, what’s the real reason Lauren – or Olivia, if you prefer – doesn’t leave the house?’
I make myself laugh. I make myself sound drunk and friendly. ‘You’re so smart,’ I say. ‘Did you follow me to the bar tonight?’
‘It was really bad luck that guy came into the bathroom,’ the bug man says, dreamily. ‘You would not have known otherwise. I’ve been watching you for a while.’
I have been careless and blind. I let him see who I am.
‘You broke into my house,’ I say. ‘It wasn’t that neighbour lady, like I thought. But you made a mistake. You used different nails.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, there,’ he says, sounding injured. If I didn’t know better, I would believe him. ‘Ted, this is an opportunity. We can both benefit.’
‘How?’ I ask. ‘I can’t pay you more money.’
‘There can be money for both of us!’ he says. ‘The thing is,’ he leans close, ‘I was meant for more than a crappy little practice, listening to middle-aged housewives talk about how they’ve lost their self-esteem. I was top of my class, you know? I had that little hiccup, true, but I got my licence back, didn’t I? I deserve more than this. What’s the difference between me and those guys on the bestseller lists? Opportunity, that’s all.
‘When I met you, I knew I’d found something special – my case study. I had been posting those ads for cheap therapy for months. My dad used to say, if you wait long enough, evil always shows up. I think you can give me what I deserve. You’re at the centre of my book, Ted. Don’t worry, no one will ever know it’s you. I’ll change your name – Ed Flagman or something. I just need you to be honest with me – really honest.’
‘What do you want me to say?’ I wish he would stop talking. I’m going to have to do something I don’t like.
‘Let’s start at the beginning,’ he says. ‘The girl, Lauren, or Olivia, whatever you like to call her. Is she the first?’
‘The first what?’
‘The first of your “daughters”,’ he says. I can hear the quote marks around the word. ‘Is that the right word? Daughters? Wives? Or maybe you just call them kittens …’
‘You’re so dumb,’ I say, furious. ‘I thought I was the dumb one!’ But he’s smart enough to be dangerous.
His bloodshot eyes narrow. ‘Why do you go to that bar, Ted?’ he asks. ‘For your cat?’
I take him in my arms. ‘Don’t
